


Indulgence

by AndromedaPrime



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Cyberverse
Genre: Breasts, Lactation Kink, M/M, Mech Preg (Transformers), Oral Sex, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:49:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24304699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndromedaPrime/pseuds/AndromedaPrime
Summary: Optimus Prime has an issue. Megatron helps out with said issue.
Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime
Comments: 21
Kudos: 181





	Indulgence

**Author's Note:**

> *tosses confetti in the air*
> 
> Definitely inspired by perictione's [Show Me Your Energon Refineries](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21838366/chapters/52117603), I decided I haven't debauched Optimus enough. So, have Cyberverse Optimus, knocked up... and with boobs!
> 
> Megatron really likes them.
> 
> [Link to fic on Dreamwidth!](https://andromedaprime.dreamwidth.org/3914.html)

“Can you not?”

“What? I’m not-”

“ _Not you_ ,” the Prime snapped, and Megatron blinked in confusion before realizing what his sparkmate meant. Optimus sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between two of his digits and laid his datapad to the table on the side of the berth. “She’s… being incredibly active.”

Megatron smiled and rolled over onto his side, putting his own datapad on Optimus’s chassis as he laid a servo over the swell of his sparkmate’s middle, stroking the gentle curve. “Little one, you should behave for your poor carrier.”

Almost instantly, she calmed down, her intense movement dulling to a gentle flutter under his digits. Her fledgling electromagnetic field pulsed happiness at the both of them.

“After all, you’ll have plenty of opportunities to drive him up the wall once you’ve emerged.”

Optimus growled and Megatron tried not to laugh. He pressed gentle kisses along the curve of his mate’s belly and then kissed Optimus on his lipplates. Well, he would have, had Optimus not shut his facemask and made a grumpy noise at him. _That_ made Megatron laugh, and he kissed over the facemask.

“Are you going to let me in?”

There was a brief pause, and then Optimus parted the mask and looked up at him with a faintly irritated expression. Then he made a small noise of embarrassment when Megatron leaned in and kissed him again, tenderly and slowly. 

“What troubles my very heavy sparkmate this time?” Megatron murmured the question, gently stroking his digits along Optimus’s face.

Optimus gave him a look, as if measuring the situation, and then his posture became almost deflated. “I’ve been on edge. I’m sorry. Between her growth placing more pressure on my hip struts and my back aching as well as my pedes,” Optimus gave a labored sigh and tried to sit up a little bit more and knocking the pillow that was under his lower back out of place - which Megatron fixed before Optimus could ask, “and… Primus, I’m mortified to say what else.”

Megatron caressed the swell of Optimus’s belly again, feeling the sparkling stir gently, and then leaned in to place a kiss on the side of his face. He pressed his faceplate against one of the Prime’s shoulder struts. “I’m your sparkmate. The time for mortification at your frame’s condition is long gone,” he said with a bemused chuckle.

Out of the corner of his optics, he saw Optimus pull a face and one of his optics twitch. That, he’d come to know, was the face he made whenever he was deep in contemplation, mulling outcomes in his processor.

Then, he heard Optimus sigh, defeated by his own strong will. Something clicked loudly, a familiar noise, and Megatron moved back a bit as he saw Optimus’s chestplates part. Optimus groaned - relieved, clearly - as two heavy sacs of protoform, glowing faintly with a rich blue hue, emerged from his chest cavity.

Megatron had seen them before, recessed, as they were built into every frame but most never utilized them. And he had taken curious looks at diagrams and datapads that showed how a frame changed during a carrying cycle. It had included captures showing the difference at certain stages, so logically he knew this was behind his sparkmate’s plating.

But to actually _see_ it now…

Optimus spoke softly, drawing Megatron out of his reverie, and he watched as Optimus looked down his frame with traces of annoyance on his face. “They hurt. They’ve increased in size as my carriage has progressed, are very sensitive, and if the datapads on this subject pertain,” he closed his optics and pinched his nasal ridge between two digits again, “they’re going to start leaking.”

Megatron looked at his sparkmate, then down at the smooth, rounded globes laying against his mate’s torso. Glowing, gleaming, the dark silicone nozzles perked upwards as if in invitation. On the closest of the mounds he could see a tiny droplet of energon starting to make its way out. Without thinking, without even asking Optimus for permission, Megatron reached down and gently wiped the droplet of sparkling-grade energon away with the tip of a digit.

Optimus started. Moaned a bit, before he could stop himself, and then looked even more horrified at what he’d just done. His servos came up to cover his face and his shoulder struts shook slightly. “Primus. I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” Megatron watched as Optimus tried to get the soft globes to go back into his chest cavity - and he succeeded - but it was clear that he was in intense discomfort.

Megatron would admit that the thought that came over him was quite self-serving. But, as he looked at the expression of malaise on his sparkmate’s face, he felt his spark soften and he racked his processor for the bits of information he’d read on this stage of carriage. Stroking his digits along the length of Optimus’s arms, he sighed and pressed his face against the other mech. “There is… something I can do to help.”

“You’re referring to helping express the energon.”

Admittedly, Megatron was a little taken aback by how quickly Optimus had been able to figure out what he’d meant - but there was a reason they were bonded, after all. Always able to read each other. He nodded and tried not to look _too_ eager, but part of him knew he was failing at that endeavor.

“I’m… very apprehensive.” Optimus was clearly mortified by the thought, but tried to keep his composure. “But I need the help.” He slowly turned his helm to face Megatron, optics following to look into his sparkmate’s red ones. “If you wouldn’t…”

“I absolutely insist,” Megatron said in the most sultry voice he could muster, thoroughly enjoying the expression of embarrassment that came over his bonded’s faceplates again. “I don’t want to leave you in this pain, if it can be at all helped.”

Optimus looked at him, measuring him. Then, his chassis parted, soft and supple breasts emerging again.

Megatron was admittedly a little surprised when, clearly in an attempt to take back some semblance of control over the situation, Optimus raised both of his servos and took a soft globe in each, pressing them together.

“Oh,” was the only response Megatron could come up with, staring at the quite enticing scene.

.-.-.

The sensors in the ring of silicone around the nozzle pinged at him when Megatron gently traced the circle with his glossa before closing his lipplates over the nozzle, and then Optimus gasped softly at the intense sensation. His processor pinged a little alarm at him, then settled in.

Megatron sucked gently, and Optimus felt a strange pulling, tingling sensation bloom out from his core and trickle towards the globe being fondled by his sparkmate. He leaned back and sighed, lifting one of his servos and placing it on the back of Megatron’s helm, stroking his digits along the plating as his sparkmate settled into his side and closed his optics.

The room was filled with only the sounds of their systems working and the silver mech’s gentle suckling sounds, a low and rumbling purr emanating from his frame. One of Megatron’s arms was draped over his lower chassis, just under the swell of both globes. His digits curled and then stroked along the curve as Optimus felt the energon trickle out of the nozzle in his sparkmate’s mouth. He watched Megatron’s reaction, the slight bit of surprise in his optics as if he’d really not expected that energon would come to him, and then felt him swallow the bit of liquid that had made its way out.

“I didn’t think,” Optimus said with a light chuckle as Megatron drew back after another klik of light suckling at the nozzle, “that you would be so… fascinated by these. You’ve seen them before and didn’t seem to think very much of them.”

Megatron purred, giving him a licentious smirk. “That was before I saw you, full and round with our sparkling, and saw these,” he gently cupped one in his servo, “filled with energon.” 

Optimus made a soft noise. Shifted a bit on the berth. “So. This is only because I’m carrying.”

“You inspire many lascivious thoughts in me, my beloved,” Megatron chuckled, bunting his helm against the Prime, who made another noise that was a mixture of embarrassment and want. “But this, the state you’re in,” he caressed the roundness of the breast in his servo, and Optimus looked down and winced in pain/pleasure when the sensitive nozzle was pinched between his sparkmate’s thumb and fore-digit, “does something more to me.”

The Prime squirmed and ex-vented harshly, trying to calm his flaring libido. He was used to suppressing those innate urges by now, knowing full well that he couldn’t just jump his sparkmate wherever and whenever he wanted. This, however - this was a lust and longing on a level that not even the night of their bonding had produced. The flames then paled in comparison to the inferno racing through his lines _now_ and now-

Optimus kissed the other mech deeply, cupping Megatron’s face in his servos and pulling him a little bit forward to fully press their lipplates together. He moaned quite obscenely into his sparkmate’s mouth as Megatron opened his and tried to nip at his lower lipplate, engine purring loudly. The servo that was still on his breast pinched lightly at the nozzle, rolling it between digits in a teasing manner that made Optimus’s intakes hitch.

The Prime made a noise of loss and longing when Megatron broke the kiss and then cupped his face in his servos, his large and strong servos that Optimus knew firsthand could bring hurt, but now only brought him comfort. Red orbs full of fire and love looked into his, and Optimus felt himself so taken by the intensity of the devotion and desire in those optics. 

Slowly, Megatron kissed him again, kissed him softly and tenderly as if it were the way to extend his life, and then moved his lipplates down to Optimus’s neck cables. The Prime gasped a little bit and made a soft noise of content as his sparkmate bit down and then licked his glossa up the length of a cable, before trailing to his chassis and the other supple breast that had yet to be touched.

His vocalizer emitted a startled noise of static when Megatron’s lipplates closed around that nozzle and he felt his dentae scrape against the nub. Optimus saw the cables in his throat working as he suckled. That pulling, tingling sensation returned, and he felt the sparkling-grade energon stream out of his breast. He watched as Megatron’s optics closed and he hummed in pleasure, digits caressing his chassis.

How he hated to admit it, but when Megatron finished and pulled away, Optimus felt a definite difference in the pressure that had been built up in his chassis. He sighed and closed his optics then reopened them, smiling at his sparkmate who was in turn giving him the most lascivious grin. Megatron leaned in and kissed him, both of his servos coming up to take a soft and round globe in each servo, gently massaging and kneading them.

“You’re truly the most erotic thing in the universe, Prime,” Megatron said in that irritatingly and equally erotic voice. “My mate, my love. How badly I can see it, hmm. You want me to take you.”

Optimus squirmed and the basest part of his processor told him to press his thighs together and keep his panel closed, because after all it was quite embarrassing that he was being turned on in such a way, let alone at all - but just as he could predict Megatron after so long, Megatron could predict him as well. Of course he could see how badly he wanted it.

The grey mech, his warlord and former adversary, love of his life, kissed along his chassis, down over the swell of his middle, down his pelvic span and then tapped at his interface panel.

Optimus made a noise somewhere between uncertainty and mortification.

“I can feel your heat, Optimus,” Megatron purred in that blasted, gorgeous voice that always sent a shiver up his spinal strut. “You can’t hide it from me, you know that well.”

The Prime huffed indignantly. “I’m not trying to hide it,” he countered. “I’m trying to get it back under control.” Then he looked at the face that Megatron was giving him, and surrendered.

Megatron’s mouth was on him instantly, glossa swiping greedily up the swollen folds of his valve and oh how Optimus half-cringed at the noise that he made at the sensation. The tip of his glossa prodded at his anterior node, and Megatron closed his lipplates around it and sucked _hard_ , his dentae scraping against the warm little nub.

Optimus jolted in shock and his thighs quaked and buckled inward, knocking against Megatron’s helm. He heard his sparkmate grunt in pain.

“Oh!” Optimus tried to fix how he lay and loosened the grip of his legs around the other mech’s helm, looking down past the curves of his breasts and belly to the tiny sliver of Megatron that he could see. “Primus, I’m sorry, I-”

“Shh,” Megatron was quick to quiet him, and then Optimus let out a soft moan as he felt his sparkmate’s lipplates press against the inside of one of his thighs, very close to the joint where thigh and pelvic struts met. “No harm done, my beloved.”

Before Optimus could give voice to his apology again, Megatron was back at his valve, lipplates closing over the node again and suckling and flicking his glossa against it before delving his tongue between the wet folds of his valve. He pressed his faceplate closer and closer to Optimus’s array, licking into his wet channel deeper and deeper. He didn’t know if the rumbling purr of pleasure was from Megatron or from himself, but at this point he was far too blissed out to care much. He leaned back onto the mesh cushions and moaned and gasped with each further lick and stroke in his valve.

Then he felt Megatron’s digits stroke his folds and anterior node. His thighs quaked, but he kept them relatively still this time, able to avoid smacking them against Megatron’s helm as he kept lovingly eating him out.

Optimus reached down as best as he could and stroked his digits along the side of Megatron’s helm. He felt Megatron’s helm lean to the side, into his touch, and much to his chagrin his mate actually _stopped_ what he was doing to turn and kiss his palm.

“Can you,” Optimus shifted in irritation, the fire in his circuits rebelling at the loss of stimulation, “can you please get on with it?”

Megatron raised himself up, and _oh Primus_ Optimus felt a little bit mortified at the copious amounts of fluids that were slathered all over his faceplate. He stared, and then felt his faceplates flush as Megatron wiped it off and - and actually licked it all off of his servo.

He’d seen it many times before. And as always, the way Megatron did it was enough to make him feel both _extremely_ turned on, and mortified that he could produce so much.

Then he heard that clicking sound that was already so familiar. Megatron’s spike emerged, thick and already dripping pre-transfluid. Optimus felt his processor riot and his valve riot, both wanting the same thing. He stared, and then made a noise of want, oh how he wanted it so, so badly.

“Are you ready for me to give you this?” Megatron asked teasingly, frame rumbling salaciously just as the smirk on his face was, as he gripped his spike in his servo and stroked it.

If Optimus wouldn’t have needed to sacrifice a mesh cushion from the two piles he was laying on, he would have thrown one at his sparkmate. Instead he gave him an extremely irritated and domineering look, which was thankfully enough for the silver mech, as he chuckled and came much closer.

The slide of his sparkmate’s spike into his valve, as often as it happened - and it happened quite a lot, if Optimus were being honest - never lost its novelty. His intakes hitched lightly and he gasped, closing his optics and focusing completely on the sensation of having his valve filled, Megatron’s spike fitting him so perfectly that, as always, he wondered if Primus had truly made them for each other.

He felt Megatron shift, and then reopened his optics to see that the mech was hovering over him, back arched slightly into the air so as to not place pressure on his middle. Seeing that it was a struggle, and with his processor screaming at him that this was an easy way to injure the sparkling, Optimus stroked his mate’s face. “We’ll have to do this another way.”

Megatron scoffed but then moaned as Optimus clenched and then relaxed his calipers. “I can hold myself up, I am not weak-”

“I am not going to risk you falling on me,” Optimus interrupted firmly, giving his sparkmate a look. “You lie down.”

Megatron looked ready to contest, but Optimus growled, and the mech obeyed, clambering to the side and lying down on his back as Optimus straddled him, one leg on each side. The Prime looked down, and then closed his optics as he remembered his temporary inability to actually _see_ anything down there. He reached between them, best as he could, and grasped his mate’s still-erect spike in his servo and impaled himself on it.

 _Oh_. That hurt. But it was so good.

Megatron’s vents hitched at the sensation again and he moved his hips, trying his hardest to stimulate his mate. Optimus squeezed down and let out a quiet moan as his other servo reached for Megatron, interlacing their digits as he, in all of his heavy glory that made him feel both like the most erotic thing in Megatron’s universe and an embarrassment, began rocking his hips. Rolling them forward, rubbing their arrays together in the search for more and more stimulation, Optimus couldn’t help the relieved noise that escaped his vocalizer. He looked down at Megatron’s face, his sparkmate’s face that always told him when he was close to getting Megatron to overload.

Part of him tried to tell him that he should get Megatron to overload first, their favorite competition in the berth. More often than not, it was Optimus that was the one to go over first, but at this point he didn’t care. Oh, how he just wanted to feel that sweet fire course through his frame. Setting a rough pace, he began shallowly rocking, back and forth, sliding that spike in and out of his frame, keeping an optic on Megatron’s expressions the entire time.

It was then that he realized that Megatron’s optics were _intensely_ fixated on the breasts wobbling and jiggling on his chassis with each movement. Remembering their intertwined digits, Optimus raised the servo that held onto Megatron’s and placed Megatron’s servo on one of the nozzles, gasping as Megatron reflexively squeezed it and massaged it under his touch.

There was that salacious grin again. 

His processor got more and more hazy, and his movements more frantic. Optimus gasped with each thrust that Megatron made into his frame, and then he let out a guttural groan when his bonded used his other servo to reach where their arrays were joined and-

_Oh!_

That pert and fiery little node of his, Megatron stroked it and rubbed his thumb over it, sending little electric shocks through his frame that collided with the fire of impending overload.

Optimus cursed his frame, and his bondmate that had put him in _this_ position, with his last bits of coherent thought as he felt overload take his frame, crying out for Megatron to go _harder_ and _pleasepleaseplease_.

He slumped over and managed to catch himself and watch as Megatron followed him through bliss. Thankfully, as Megatron’s own wave crested, he felt his sparkmate grab him and put him back on the berth. It was then that Optimus realized the pillows had scattered all around the berth. He looked at them and then sighed and buried his face into Megatron’s frame. The cushions could be picked up later.

A little while of silence, punctuated only by the sounds of their fans cooling their overheated frames, followed. And then Megatron chuckled. “Feel any better where your… chassis is concerned?”

Optimus felt a faint flicker of irritation, mostly at the laugh. He had a pillow right next to him this time. He grabbed it and whacked Megatron in the face with it, prompting Megatron to laugh that much harder. 

“Don’t act like you were doing this selflessly,” Optimus said in a tone that was truly much more irritated than he really felt. “You just wanted another excuse to frag.”

Megatron chuckled and pressed his face against Optimus’s, bumping their nasal ridges together. He gently kissed the Prime on his lipplates, and Optimus felt whatever bits of annoyance he had slip away. He kissed him back.

“Who says I can’t act selflessly and be a little bit selfish in the same vein, Optimus?” Megatron asked. Clearly it was rhetorical. And even if he’d meant to have no clear answer, the servo grabbing at one of his sensitive globes of protoform and silicone removed his ability to retort back at his sparkmate. Optimus moaned a bit at the stimulation.

Fragging warlord and his fragging servos.

“But, I am being quite serious.” The joking manner was entirely removed from his bondmate this time, actual concern in his red optics. “Do you feel any better?”

Optimus let his myriad of emotions go, and then found that he actually did. As a test, he closed his chassis and found significantly less discomfort this time around than there had been earlier. “Yes, I do actually feel less pressure.” He placed his helm on the nearest of Megatron’s shoulder struts, and closed his optics. “Thank you. As… unorthodox as your method was.”

He felt one of Megatron’s servos stroke over his helm and antennae, and he flicked the antennae, which drew another laugh out of Megatron.

Optimus couldn’t help but wonder if he should simply part his chassis next time he wanted Megatron to be distracted and frag him through the berth. Under the cover of irritation he’d put up, he found he quite enjoyed that he had made his bonded so… aroused.

It would have to be a test for much later.


End file.
